Run Away
by Clara Rhyneheart
Summary: The stage is set in London, after the second World War. A young girl is handed a fate that she doesn't want. What else could she do but run away?
1. An Introduction

**Hello! I'm not sure if any of you have read it before, but this is a fic that I had the idea for about 3 years ago. I posted it here, but was unhappy with the way that it was going and eventually took it down. This is my re-do of that idea, and it's something that I'm hoping will make more sense than my previous piece. Also, I would like to give many, many thanks to Adriatic Rose, who beta'd the old version of this fic for me. Her advice really helped and still helps while I'm writing this. **

**So, read on!**

I opened my eyes and looked out to the London skyline before me. The sun was setting and it gave the world around me an ethereal glow. People were spilling from their houses to go to jazz clubs and others were finishing work for the day, leaving behind new skeletons in place of their bombed out shells. The world was turning again, and for that I was glad. The war was finally over, and although it left everyone confused and broken it its wake, we were all learning how to go on once more. My temporary home on the bank of the Thames river gave me a unique view of Britain's new try at life.

At the thought of my old home, I turned over and sighed. My childhood home was almost blown to smithereens during one of the bombings. Luckily, my mother and I had the record player cranked too loud to hear the bomb sirens, so when the house behind us was hit, taking out our bomb shelter in the backyard with it, we were inside, safe and sound. Well, as safe and sound as one can be during aerial attacks. The force of the impact blew out all of the windows in the house and knocked us around quite a bit, but we came out of it without any broken bones. That isn't to say we weren't shaken up. When the opportunity presented itself, we packed up our necessities and moved in with my friend Eliza and her mother. With both of our fathers out in the war, it was comforting to have my surrogate sister close by. But now that the war was over and our fathers had returned, us Darlings were gearing up to return to our former home, which was slowly being repaired.

"Ruby!" Eliza shrieked. Suddenly pulled from my thoughts, I jumped a little in the window seat. "Rubes! Come on, it's time for dinner. I'm staaaaaaaaaaaaaaarving, and you're taking forever!" I rolled my eyes. That girl was as skinny and a beanpole and ate more than I ever could. If I even tried to do what she could, I would blow up like a balloon.

"Gosh, woman, give me a second!" I yelled. I could hear her harrumph from the bottom of the stairs and giggled. Sliding into my slippers, I dashed into the hallway and down the stairs. Low and behold, there sat Eliza with her arms crossed and her foot tapping. When she gave me the most scathing look that she could manage, I laughed and sauntered past her leisurely. She started prodding me with her finger when it became clear that I would take my own goddamn time to get to the dining table.

When we finally got to the kitchen, we were greeted with our parents dancing to Louis Armstrong's _La vie en Rose_. Eliza grabbed my arm and pulled me back out quickly. We shared a smile and sighed. It was the happiest either of our fathers had been since they came home from the war. Actually, I had noticed that my father had become particularly somber around me as of late, but lack of reason drove me to ignore it. I shook my head to clear my thoughts and elbowed Eliza. She looked at me questioningly, but I curtsied and took her hand. She laughed, curtsied back, and we started to dance into waltz into the kitchen. Our parents laughed when they saw us, just as I wanted, and my father picked my mother up and spun her around and around. They looked young and wonderful, and the world just felt _right_ for the first time in years. It felt like things were really going to be okay.

God, how I was wrong.

**There's a link to the song on my profile. Reviews=Preview of next chapter!**


	2. The Stakes

**Hello! This is probably gonna be one of the faster updates. I want to make each chapter around 3-4 thousand words, so I'm guessing updates will be weekly? Nothing is solid yet. **

**I am not a man, nor am I dead, so you can assume that I am not J.M. Barrie and don't own anything. **

**Read on!**

That was the last dinner I would have at Eliza's house as a resident. After we were done eating, her mother Jessica and her father Eric gave us all hugs and we chatted for awhile, but after they followed us upstairs and helped us pack our bags. During our meal my father quietly announced that the minor construction on our house had been finished and that we would return to our house the next day. Although I was sad, it would be a relief to have some of my own space. Preferably something quiet. As much as I love her, Eliza could talk someone's head off in a few minutes then keep on going for the next few hours.

"…And then he kissed me and we ran off to the alien spaceship that was waiting to take us to mars. I swear, Rubes, are you even listening to me?" I blinked at her silently, trying to remember what she was rambling about. We were in her room, trying to fit my junk into a couple of small boxes.  
"Sorry, El, what were you saying?" She rolled her eyes and continued on her rant.

"I was saying that Alec has asked me to the Winter Formal and you aren't listening to a bit of it! This is big news! First the Formal, then Ice Cream, and before you know it we'll have four kids and our own house! Just you watch." I smiled.

"And you know that I'm happy for you. You've been obsessing over him for… what? Four years? Five? Hell, since before the war started. God forbid he sees all of the hearts around his name in your yearbooks." Eliza scoffed at me, muttering something about it being _only_ two years. As she went on trilling about every little detail of their futures together, I sighed and stuffed some more sweaters into a box. Out of the two of us, she was the more popular, outgoing, and pretty. I wasn't going to blind anyone anytime soon, and I had enough friends, but I was more of a girl to stay home and read than to go to a school dance. And of course, to go I would have had to be asked, and that never happened. Well, besides this one weird transfer student who had been homeschooled. He asked me in German. Neither of us spoke German. Suffice to say, I did not attend any dances that year.

El poked me in the ribs. "And you know, I saw Charles giving you the eye yesterday." I almost choked on my own spit. "Really, Ruby, he was! That boy wants to ask you, just you wait." Then I was really choking. The idea that a… a _boy _would show any interest in me was preposterous. Any attention that I got in that department came from the weird boys, like the homeschooled boy, and they were usually gingers. Weird and ginger was not a good combination.

"Please tell me, when did you come back from the crazy house? Charles is an attractive guy. So you've either hit your head or he has." El just shook her head.

"I swear you'll never see yourself clearly. Anyway, if you choose to ignore it now, then we'll just have to wait until Monday to see what he really thinks, hm?" She giggled and put the last of my things into a box and closed it up. "Well, that looks to be about it. I'm going to run over to my parents room and get some water. Our dads are playing poker with a few friends downstairs and it would be best not to disturb them." She hurried out of the room. I didn't really understand why she was so insistent on staying out of their way. It wasn't like anything crazily inappropriate was happening down there. I knew they were drinking and didn't see what was so wrong with that.

Eliza was taking forever. I sat there for a good three minutes before boredom overtook me. Nothing fun was happening in that godforsaken bedroom, so I decided that it would be a good idea to pop downstairs and see what my father was up to. Drunken poker was better than a quiet room.

The men were stationed around a small table in the living room. The room was dimmed and covered in a cloud of sickly sweet cigar smoke. I squinted my eyes from the doorway to get a better look.

These men didn't look like my father's carefree friends. They wore no-nonsense business suits and had an aura of… something I couldn't quite place, but whatever it was, it gave me chills. My gaze swung over to my father. He didn't look like he was just enjoying a pint. Really, it was more like he had enjoyed ten and suddenly realized that he had made a huge mistake. His eyes were bloodshot and misty, and the way he handled his cards was careless. When he caught me staring, the fog seemed to lift a bit in his mind and his demeanor turned angry.

"Ruby, get out."

"But Da-"

"No. Get out _now."_ The other men shifted their attention away from the game and onto me. An icy chill shot down my spine and I was frozen for a beat. Another glare from my father sent me racing out of the room. I stopped as soon as I knew that they couldn't see me. Something wasn't right.

"So, that's the girl, huh?" One of the strangers rumbled. They stopped making noise for a second and my breath caught in my throat.

"Yeah. What's it to you?" I could hear a steely tone in my dad's voice.

"I was just thinking that we should… up the ante of the game. You see, I have this suitcase with me. Although this isn't part of our intended business here, I don't really need this much surplus and thought that it would make a good gamble." I heard them shifting around, and something clicked. There was one huge intake of breath, which I assumed was my father. I dared to take a peek and quickly stuck my head in the doorway again. They were still sitting there, but one of the men took their briefcases out. In it were stacks of cash. I quickly turned back around the corner and took a couple of deep breaths.

Who the hell were these people? And why was my dad involved with them?

"You see, Rich, we thought that since you did so much for us during the war, we'd repay you. Of course, there are stakes for this reward."

"What are the stakes?"

"The girl." My eyes widened and I sunk to the floor. This was insane. Why the world would they want me? It's not like I'd be of…

Oh. _Oh_. Oh my gosh, no. This was crazy. My dad had to know that. He had to know that this was stupid and he'd say no and those men would go away forever.

Things were still going on in the room. "I could pay off all of the debts with that…" I heard him mumble.

"Then why don't we gear up for one more round and see how this plays out?" I let out a strangled sob. No, no, no, no, no. This wasn't happening. No.

"… But I can't." I looked up. I heard a heavy sigh. Something clicked in the room.

" I don't want to do this, but you leave me no choice. Are you in, or are you out?" Just one more look…

A gun. Holy shit. My father took a huge swig of the drink in front of him.

"One last round. If I win, I get the money. If you win, you get… you get Ruby."

I returned to my place against the wall and stared out the window across from me.

"Well," I whispered, "I'm fucked."

**A review = a preview of the next chapter. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Home Sweet Home

**Hi! I had writer's block all of April, and with May came finals, so FINALLY, I was able to grind out chapter 3 of Ruby's story!**

**Enjoy, lovely readers!**

I don't really know how long I sat there until common sense kicked in. The gravity of my situation floated around in my head, but I couldn't really string enough thoughts together to bring it back to earth. Just… my father. I understood that we were having a rough time getting back on our feet with all of the destruction that the war had caused, but was anything really ever worth betting family? Or was he just so drunk off his ass that he felt confident? Maybe he just didn't care? I buried my face in my legs and tried to breath.

This wasn't going to end well, and I knew that. God, what was I still doing downstairs? Not factoring in the miniscule chance that my dad could win, I only had a limited amount of time before shit hit the fan. Maybe two hours, tops. And hell, why was I sitting so close to the living room? I was practically asking for more trouble. As quietly as I could, I got back on my feet and crept up the stairs.

The first thing that I had to do was grab essentials. Then I had to say good bye. I sighed and rested my head on the door that led to Eliza's, and previously my own, room. I tried as hard as I could not to disturb her when I entered, but she was already dead asleep. I smiled wistfully. We had spent so many nights in there just talking and laughing and getting away from all of the awful things that plagued our world. I grabbed a stray piece of paper and tried to scribble down my goodbye- _El, something's happened and I have to go. I hope you'll understand, Love Ruby_- then shoved it under her pillow. All she did was roll over and snore louder. I rolled my eyes.

_Okay, first things first_. I had to round up some essentials. A change of clothes and a wad of cash that I kept hidden under my mattress went into my worn brown knapsack, along with a pack of matches and a bar of soap. I planned to stop by my house and camp out there for the night, then lay low. How I would do that, I didn't know, but nothing much mattered at that particular moment than getting out of the reach of immediate danger. After closing my bag up, I headed out and down the hall to my mother's room.

She was still awake, reading something written by J. M. whats-his-face, smiling softly to herself. When she heard the door creak as I opened it, her smile grew a bit. I walked over to the bed and climbed in, resting my head on her shoulder.

"What's the problem, Darling? Bad dreams?" She asked. I chuckled.

"Something like that. I was wondering… could you tell me the stories that you used to? The ones about Peter Pan?" Her brows furrowed, and she turned to get a good look at me.

"That bad, huh? Well, I suppose that it wouldn't hurt." She shifted in the bed to get comfortable. "There's a place in the sky, the second star to the right and straight on 'til morning, where a boy and his band of lost boys lives. He never grows old. And every night, when your Grandmother Wendy would tell her brothers stories, he would fly down to listen. Then, one night, he lost his shadow and she sewed it back onto him. I think that's where it all began for us Darling girls. He found her, and he found me, and he'll find you someday, too…" and she kept on with the story, but I didn't hear. I was warm and happy next to my mother for what might have been the last time in awhile, and I dozed off.

"… and then he took me home. Darling, are you awake?" My mother shook me a bit, and the world slowly came back into focus. I squinted my eyes and tried to look at the bedside clock. "Honey, you've been out for almost an hour. I practically told the story to myself." I shot up.

"An hour? Oh, god, look at the time. I should be going." I rushed to the door, but paused before I exited. "I love you, Mom." I heard her hum absentmindedly as she settled down to sleep. I left without looking back.

The tricky part of escaping Eliza's house wasn't the lacking exit. There were vines climbing up the wall to her room, but it was the question of whether those vines would hold my weight that bothered me. They looked thick, but I wasn't too sure that they would hold as I climbed down. The thing was, I couldn't use the back door because I could be caught, so it was the only way. After taking one more glance around the room to ensure that I hadn't left anything, I slipped into some dark clothes, laced up my boots, and stuck one leg out of the window.

God damn, was it a long way down. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. There was no time to hesitate. I forced my other leg out of the window and began to descend.

I really didn't want to look down, so I looked up. The skies were so clear that night, and each one was shining like a beacon from the heavens. But one star was brighter than the rest. It was the one… hell, it was the second to the right from the North Star_. And right up there with it is Peter Pan._ I snorted to myself. _Yeah, right. _Being swept off my feet and flown away would be a miracle at that moment, but if the war had taught me anything, then I knew that things that came down from the sky were never good. _Still, it would be nice not to have to walk so far… Just think, you, flying…_

I got so caught up in my daydream that I missed a step. Let me tell you, the view I got from the ground one I crash landed was incredible. All the stars were spinning, practically dancing, but as was the rest of the world, due to the huge hit I took the head. I got up as soon as everything stopped moving and stumbled away from the house, because there was no way that the noise I made wasn't heard by everyone else in the house. The street lamps dimly lit my way, but they were of little consequence because I knew every step from Eliza's house to mine like the back of my hand due to the amount of times we had run back and forth on it. The lights made the streets a blur until my house came into view. I ran to it, all the way past our mailbox and to the front door. Which, to my dismay, was locked.

I walked all the way around my house, looking for an easy entrance. There was none… except the vines that climbed all the way up to my room, which had its bay windows open, just like they used to be. _Great, more vines. Just what I need to top off this wonderful night._ With a sigh, I trudged over and began climbing. Thankfully there was no falling, although there were quite a few close calls. I managed to heave myself over the ledge and collapsed on the window seat, exhausted. Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I took in the familiar room. Everything was just as I had left it, sans the broken glass from the windows. It was comforting to see. Hell, even the smell made me feel better. It was _home. _This was where I spent the bulk of my sixteen years on earth, and it was just _so great _to be there. Being back almost blocked out the nastiness that night had brought. Almost.

Nothing was the same. Even though I was home, it wasn't a permanent thing. I would have to leave early the next morning because mother and father were coming home. I was simply squatting there for the night. I sighed and plopped down onto my bed. Then I buried my head into my pillows and screamed. _This sucks this sucks this sucks this sucks this sucks_. Once it was all out of my system, I got back up, smoothed my hair back, and tried to calm myself.

I needed to think on the bright side of things. At least I had a place to sleep. I really wasn't in the place to get picky about sleeping arrangements, because I would probably be sleeping in the streets until I found somewhere a comfortable distance from London. So I should have been grateful to have one last chance to be home. But I wasn't. I was _so fucking angry._ I took a few more deep breaths. No, no, no, no, not the time to dwell on that. I needed a game plan

I already had money, some clothing, and there would probably be so preserves in the cabinet downstairs so that was covered for the time being. I could hitchhike up north and get a factory job. What with reconstruction and all, there should be plenty of jobs available, and it wasn't like they were picky about age. I would do just fine.

I got up and started to pace, and to the side and saw myself in the mirror. My blue eyes looked tired, and my brown hair looked brittle and limp. I had only been through a few hours of hell, and it was already showing. I didn't know if I would even be able to survive knowing that my own father would sell me out. He had been through a lot with the war, and was silent more often than not, but could it really change him so much?

That was a stupid question. Of course it could. It already had. I wouldn't be in my house planning how to get out of London if it hadn't. But I couldn't help thinking back to before. He was so happy, so hopeful before he left. He sang when he came home from working at the bank, and he'd always sneak me freebies that they gave out because he knew that I loved them. He danced with mother every night and was bursting with stories about his day, which he always conveyed in a humorous way no matter how shitty his experiences might have been. But when he came back from Germany… It was all silence and broody looks. We understood that he had seen some awful things, but my mother and I thought that he'd eventually come out of his funk. He didn't, permitting a few rare moments. When he was dancing in the kitchen, it was like the war had never happened. But he managed to prove me wrong, alright.

I walked out of my room and into the hallway, right where I stood when he told me that he had been drafted. I went to the stairs and stared at the place where Mother had collapsed into inconsolable tears when he told her he was leaving the next morning. At the bottom of the stairwell was a worn spot in the carpet where she would pace when she was worried about him, which was d most every minute of every hour of every day. To the left was the parlor where we sat and listened for developments on the radio, and to the right was the kitchen, where we sat and read the list of deceased and missing to check for Father's name. Every room was tainted by memories of the war. It was hard to think about the good things, because dirt and dust covered them all. I had to look hard to find them beneath it all.

For example, when I went back upstairs and into my parents room, the first thing I thought of was my mother crying when she thought I couldn't hear her. But then, if I tried a bit harder, I could practically see my mother telling me stories about Peter Pan when I couldn't sleep. Actually, the same could be said for my room. I knew every place he was when he visited, and before the war, I used to double check the roof outside my window to see if he was there, and I'd be sure to leave it unlocked incase he needed to come inside. That was ruined too. When I was in my house, I was scared about aerial attacks, so I kept my head safely inside the window, and the window stayed securely shut because of looters. I wondered what happed to that worry free version of myself. Really, I didn't have time to think about Peter Pan all that much because I was too busy fretting about being blown off the planet by a bomb. But every once in awhile, I entertained the idea of being carried away from my problems and worries by a flying boy. Hell, that would be a miracle. I wouldn't have to get a job at a factory. I'd be able to live in Neverland, which sounded so fudging amazing right then and there… And then I heard a muffled thump coming from my room. I rushed into it, but saw nothing, so I threw the bay windows open and leaned out to look at the roof. I swore that I saw a shadow at the top, but it was such a fleeting glance that I couldn't tell. Once I was sure that my search was fruitless, I collapsed into the window seat in a fit of giggles. _Gosh, my nerves are shot_.

And then I looked up and _OH MY GOD THERES A GUY IN MY ROOM._

**And I wonder who it is?:) Also, reviews make me really happy! Plus, reviews get you a sneak peak at the next chapter! So, if you wanna tell me what you think so far, critique what you've read , or just tell me your life story, I'd love it! **

**See you next time~ Clara**


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